Meet my skull resident. Good luck.

Tsonga

So Wild Wednesday at Wimbledon happened, and I needed a few days to grieve. That’s a sign that I’m way too invested in Fed’s success in the majors if I can’t watch any of the Wimbledon matches (ANY OF THEM!!) for three days (THREE DAYS!!) because I’m mourning the fact that his grand slam quarters streak ended and he won’t be featured in any more Wimbledon matches this year. I’ve followed his career from the onset, and I know he’s nearing its end. So I’ve made alternate plans for whom I’ll root for in situations when he receives an early round boot. Unfortunately, Rafa factored heavily into that plan followed by Jo Willy. So, my plans were effectively turned into a steaming pile of poo this year at the All England Club. I was also very sad to see Sharapova eliminated. Fortunately, I’ve still got two women I’d really like to see do well, so that’s where I’ll focus my attention for the rest of the tournament. Come on Sloane and Aga!

I am a creative type who's carting 3 lbs. of crazy around in my head. Periodically, I let Her Majesty spew out her excess garbage on my website, so I can silence the lambs when their cries become too much to bear. Yes, I've given my brain separate billing. Think that's odd? Take it up with the gelatinous monster.
I believe in binge-watching, running, taking endless pictures of my devil dog, obsessive, marathon reading stints and the campaign to end the positioning of pickles next to delicious food items thereby contaminating everything with pickle juice. I regard the presence of licorice flavor in my food as a personal attack. I'm alarmingly addicted to alliteration. I am not afraid of a run-on sentence. Oh, and I take ping pong very seriously. No, really.